


Era Of The Boy Bands

by sumomomochi



Series: The 'Verse in Which Dirk is Anime Horatio Caine [8]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Breathplay, Consensual Kink, Dom John, Dom/sub, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Spanking, Sub Dave, Tongue Piercings, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-22 07:09:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumomomochi/pseuds/sumomomochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s cute how bashful your boyfriend is about asking you to beat the shit out of him.</p>
<p>In which negotiations are made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> huuuuuge round of applause goes to [minnie](http://beepboopminniebot.tumblr.com/) for betaing for me now. so many errors fixed uvu

EB : so uh   
EB : would a threesome actually be something you’re interested in?   
TG : meh i wouldnt be opposed but its not something id actually go search out i guess   
TG : you actually wanna take tz up on her offer?   
EB : idk probably not.    
EB : you would look really good between us though...   
TG : i see how it is you perv   
EB : butthead XP   
TG : yeah but you love me   
EB : yep.   
EB : but...   
TG : if we do end up in a menage a trois   
EB : yeah, like, what would you want to do?   
TG : idk i guess it depends on the tone of it   
TG : like if its specifically intended to be a scene i wouldnt want to have another sub involved but other than that i dont really care   
EB : hm.   
TG : and you dont want another dom   
EB : yeah :T   
TG : thats cool we dont gotta   
EB : yeah, i know.

There’s sort of this weird interest in the back of your mind though, despite an actual threesome being (now officially) established as not something either of you are interested in. You don’t want to share your control but there’s something appealing about ordering your sub to do something to someone else, and you can’t quite put your finger on what it is you like.

Maybe you’re just a voyeur.

Yeah, that’s probably it. That’s okay though, because Dave’s got a thing for showing off.

EB : i do like when you show off for me though.   
TG : is that your whole interest in tzs idea me mackin on her   
EB : … maybe.   
EB : not actually. i just like watching.   
TG : fuck me youre perfect   
EB : <3   
TG : <3   
TG : tzs gonna be disappointed though   
TG : she thinks youve got a hot butt   
EB : pffft i’m flattered?   
TG : and im like naw hon theres no thinking about it his butt is top notch   
TG : tru fax no denying it   
TG : youve got the sort of ass you can bounce quarters off of   
EB : ahahah thanks i guess.   
TG : welcome babe   
TG : so while were on the topic can i make a request?   
EB : of course <3

You can see him typing, see the message drop when he erases the entire thing to start again.

His third attempt is the one that makes it through.

TG : beat me with a crop?

Oh.

TG : i know youre not all into the whole pain thing so its kind of douchey for me to ask but id   
TG : really like it   
EB : sure :)   
EB : to what extent though?

Again, it takes him a couple of tries to figure out how he wants to phrase things. You watch the typing notification flash on and off and your heart clenches because this is obviously something he really, really wants.

TG : til im black and blue

It’s terse, just like his previous statement. You’re betting he kept trying to spin some long metaphor, trying to blow it off like he’s not as invested in this as he obviously is.

It’s cute how bashful your boyfriend is about asking you to beat the shit out of him.

EB : i could give it a shot.   
EB : it’ll probably take me a couple of tries to build up to that hard though...   
TG : thats cool we can start slow   
TG : probs better to anyway   
EB : do you already have a crop?   
TG : naw not yet   
TG : wanna pick one out together?

You think, you _hope_ , that means he hasn’t gone this far with someone else. You know that he likes pain and you’d assume he’s done some of the obligatory S&M sort of things with other people but...

The idea that he wants _you_ to beat him bloody gives you butterflies, even though, like he said, you aren’t actually into dishing out pain.

EB : sure :)

**=== >**

You just walk into his apartment, without even a text to let him know you’re on the way. You have a key, after all. Might as well put it to good use.

Dirk takes one look at you as you shut the door, raising a single eyebrow to give you a deadpan, silent question. You can hear the shower running -- Dave, obviously -- and you falter in your stride, trying to figure out the answer to a question you don’t actually know. Dirk just snorts, shakes his head, and says, “I should jet, shouldn’t I?”

“Uh -- “ yeah actually, considering what you plan on doing, but you’re still sort of blindsided by him preempting your (eventual, you swear!) warning.

“Kid, you’ve been around long enough for me to be able to tell when you plan on fucking the shit outta my bro.”

Face hot, you sputter and he laughs at you, claps you on the shoulder, and elbows past. He shuts the door just as quietly as you did. You stare at it for a couple of seconds, still a little flabbergasted that you are apparently so obvious in your intentions. You shake it off. Dave does not linger in the shower.

Double checking that the door is locked out of habit, you head to Dave’s room. You leave the tv and the kitchen lights on the way Dirk left them and settle into your boyfriend’s computer chair just in time for him to turn off the water. Maybe a minute and a half later, he pushes past his door with only a towel wrapped around his hips. His eyebrows arch up in surprise before he relaxes into a smile. You can’t help your answering grin.

“Hey,” he says, nudging his door closed with his heel. He lets the towel drop from around his waist and flings it towards his laundry pile, “Didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”

He takes a step towards his dresser and you shrug; “Had an idea.”

“Oh really,” he shoots back over his shoulder.

“Yep,” you say, standing just as his fingers touch his dresser, “On your knees in front of me.”

He doesn’t immediately follow your order, but you hear how his breath hitches at your tone. He freezes in place. You allow him a moment to consider whether or not he’s interested in this sort of activity tonight before you drop your voice a little lower, grinding out his name like a warning.

In the half light filtering in from behind the blinds, you can just see how he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. It’s the only bit of him that’s moved since you gave your order, and it’s starting to feel less like he’s debating on if he’s in or not and more like he’s testing boundaries, the shithead.

“Dave. Now.”

He releases his lip with a wet pop as he turns to face you, eyes downcast.

It takes him three steps to position himself in front of you and he drops fluidly. You smooth his still wet hair back from his forehead and murmur, “Good boy.”

The praise has him shivering. You can see how you’ve already got him half hard, the start of his erection hanging between his spread thighs. You’re not much different, your shorts tented even though you weren’t actually all that hard when you got here. 

He leans in just a little, lips parted as he gravitates towards your dick and while yeah, that’s part of your plan, that’s not how you want to go about it. You take hold of his hair, the wet strands tangling around your fingers, and tug his head back. He gasps, eyes half lidded and hazy.

“Ah,” you chide, “Take off my pants first.”

His hands come up in a flash, thin fingers fumbling with the button of your shorts. They drop around your ankles as his hands wander across your boner. You let him touch you; there’re teasing glances of hands on dick, quiet worship of your anatomy while his fingers crawl up to your waistband so he can peel your boxers down. Your dick springs free and he leans forward again, eyes flicking up towards your face in question.

You pet his head, smoothing his hair back. His breath is hot against your dick, his lips close but not close enough.

“Go ahead,” you croon, guiding his face forward just a little bit. He wraps his lips around the tip of your dick, his tongue sliding up the bottom of your head. His fingers wrap around the base too, but he drops them back into his lap, palms pressed against his thighs, when you say, “No hands.”

The metal ball sitting on top of his tongue is hard against the bottom of your dick when he swallows down more of you, contrasting amazingly against the velvet heat of the rest of his mouth. You definitely really enjoy this particular piercing of his -- all his other ones _look_ good but the one through his tongue has a practical application that you like a whole lot more.

And he’s gotten really great at incorporating said piercing into how he sucks dick in the months since it’s healed, especially since the summer heat made actual, full contact sex really uncomfortably sticky.

The piercing catches on the flare of your head when he swirls his tongue around it, teeth following as he pulls away to kiss the very tip. His eyes are closed, face relaxed, but his breathing has picked up a little and you can see how hard he’s gotten just from sucking you off.

“Enjoying yourself?” you ask. The corners of his mouth turn up, his lips pressed against the head of your dick.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice a hot breath against your dick, and then he corrects himself. “Yes Sir.”

You pet his head and murmur some more praise that has him eagerly squirming as he swallows you down again, the barbell through his tongue drawing a hard line against the underside of your dick. You can feel yourself pressed against the back of his throat, not quite all in his mouth but close enough. He hollows his cheeks, sucking hard.

You don’t mean to clench your fingers in his hair so tight but you do, and he moans as you accidentally yank a little harder than you’d like. Then again, the whole point for the night is you getting comfortable with the idea of hurting him how he wants you to.

So you give his hair another yank, short and sharp and just enough to shift him how you want. He gasps again, head tilted back just a little, opening his throat. You pull out maybe half an inch, enough to let him know what you’re going to do next, and you can feel him exhale around you. When he starts his slow inhale, relaxing under your touch, you push back in until you’re all the way down his throat, his lips pressed to your pubic bone.

And then you stay there.

“Good boy,” you whisper, petting his head with the hand you’re not using to keep it pressed against your crotch, “Hands on my hips if you need me.”

He makes a high whine. His face is quickly darkening, breath short and shallow and tightly controlled so he doesn’t gag around you. He swallows around you desperately, too, and it feels amazing. Every twitch of his tongue has his piercing shifting against your dick, and you bite your lip, focusing on your sub, watching for his cues.

His hands twitch up a little and you slowly ease back, relaxing your grip on his head until his mouth pops off you entirely, lips slick with spit. You let him rest his forehead against your hip while he catches his breath. His nose is tucked against your pubes, his pants ghosting over your balls and the top of your thighs.

You repeat your words of praise, continuing to pet his head. You can feel the way he smiles a little in return as he nuzzles closer and arches up to press a kiss against your hip bone.

“Awful forward of you,” you say, voice low, but you’re grinning at the same time.

Dave mumbles back, “Sorry, Sir. Just happy to have pleased you.”

“You’re cute.”

He snorts, face squished against your hip still. You can see the tips of his ears turning pink, and your point is proven.

His face tilts a little towards your dick again, his lips a hair’s breadth away from your skin. You don’t say anything as he leans in just a bit more, ever so slowly, until he’s pressing a kiss against the base of your dick instead of your hip. You don’t stop him, don’t chastise him, and he grows bolder, lips and tongue sliding down your length.

It’s funny ‘cause you literally just pointed out his presumptuousness.

You do, however, still have your hand on the back of his head. Maybe you didn’t exactly _tell_ him to continue, but you are still silently guiding his actions. He doesn’t swallow you down again, just kisses you all over, slathering your cock with affection. And his tongue.

And his tongue piercing.

You really like it, okay?! It’s... different and awesome and you totally dig the slide of flesh-warmed metal against your cock.

You let him suck your dick for a bit longer, enjoying his attention, before you halt his ministrations. He moves when you nudge him back, shifting his weight, relaxing into sitting full out on the floor at your feet. He’s slouching, his forearms resting against his thighs, erection framed by his wrists though he’s very pointedly not touching himself. And he’s sitting criss-cross-applesauce.

You snerk.

Dave’s sarcastic eyebrow raise is ruined by his flush and his boner and you fight your grin as you tuck yourself back into your boxers for the time being. You hold a hand out to him to help him up too, watching him unfold as he stands.

You only have to duck a little to press your lips to his knuckles, pulling his hand delicately towards your face. The smile you get in return is lopsided, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners, and you grin back.

“Go lay down on the bed,” you tell him, “face down.”

His fingers slide from your grip and he relaxes back into sub mode as he steps around you. You watch him lay down across the middle of his bed, arms folded under his head and ankles crossed, stretched out. He’s watching you from the crook of one elbow and you think he looks a little smug, so you kneel on the bed next to him and, without any warning, you slap his ass. Hard.

He sucks in a sharp breath, his back tensing for a moment as he buries his face in his arms. It doesn’t really do much. You can still see the blush crawling down the back of his neck while you shake out the tingles in your hand.

Your sub inhales deeply when you gently slide the tips of your fingers down his spine. You watch his shoulders tense up again in anticipation when you pull your hand away. You draw the pause out a little longer before you bring your hand down against his flesh again. He gasps, flinching forward. His breath has picked up and he shivers a little when you lean over him, the fingers of your other hand sliding through his hair again. You pull his head back and he chokes on air, trembling.

“You like that, don’t you?” you whisper against his shoulder. You can feel him nod as he groans. “Well?”

It takes him a couple of seconds to figure out words before he gasps, “Yessir.”

“What was that?”

“Yes, yes Sir, I do.”

The crack of your hand against his ass echoes again through his room, and he whimpers half a heartbeat later.

“You what?”

“Like it -- “ you hit him again and he keens, “I like it.”

You croon, “Like what?” and he whimpers again.

“I, I like it. When you hit me.”

You pull his head back a little farther, forcing his back to bow. Your voice is even and velvety smooth when you say, “What was that?”

“Sir!” your sub has jumped up an octave, words high and tight, a little tinged with panic, “I like it when you hit me, Sir.”

You drop your grip on his hair and he faceplants into his arms, shoulders hunched. He makes a tiny noise in the back of his throat when you press your lips against his arm, hand smoothing over the heated flesh of his ass.

“Doing alright?” you ask. Your sub nods vigorously, trembling. “Good. You’re doing a good job, Dave.”

You pat his butt, just a little, just hard enough to get him to gasp again.

“We’ll definitely have to invest in something to spank you with,” you tell him, “You want to be bruised from it, not me, isn’t that right, Dave?”

He hisses, “Yes Sir,” against his arms and his hips twitch a little under your hand. You smirk.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Yes.” He draws out the s sound as another tremble claws down his spine.

“How much?”

“A lot.”

Your sub’s usual verboseness has been replaced with a single minded eagerness to please as quickly as possible and his gasped, half sentence responses are absolutely adorable.

“And how much is a lot?” He exhales hard through his teeth at that, burying his face in his arms. You think you hear him reply but you can’t catch his muffled words, so you lift your hand and croon, “What was that?”

He takes a breath too long to answer and your hand comes down against his flesh. Your hand stings like crazy as a result, and you can only imagine how wonderfully Dave hurts.

“Love it,” he whines, propped up a little on his elbows so he can be heard, “so much.”

“Good.”

Your sub moans. You shove his hips against the bed, forcing him to grind against it, and he bites out a desperate curse. He’s panting hard, pink from the shoulders up, his arms shaking, back bowed and ass red.

You think you might be having a little too much fun. Which is good. Your sub is, without a doubt, enjoying himself, ecstatic that you’re doing this for him, and you like how responsive he is.

You hit him again and his choked moan goes straight to your dick.

“Think you could get off just from this?” you ask him, voice low. He nods and hisses an affirmative and you lean over him, chest against his back as you smooth your hand over his abused ass. You murmur in his ear, “What do you want.”

He breathes, “You.”

“Specifics, Dave,” you chide, trying not to grin. He huffs and gasps and trembles under you, and you drag your nails across his tender flesh. “Well?”

“Fuck,” he gasps and you crack your hand against his backside. Again.

“Not an answer, Dave.”

He whimpers and you think he might be biting his tongue so you continue to spank him, the shithead. You oblige him anyway, dick pressed against his hip as your hand comes down in rapid succession. By the time you’re done, five, six blows later, he’s sobbing.

“Beat me ‘til I’m black and blue, beat me ‘til I bleed -- “ the words drip from his lips, desperate -- “I don’t want to be able to move without thinking of you -- “ and you punctuate his phrases for him -- “I want to ache and whimper every time i sit down, I don’t -- “ every swat of your hand makes him whimper, his voice growing needier -- “I don’t want to be able to sit down at all, I want you to fuck me hard, pin me down and cane me ‘cross my thighs while balls deep in me, I, I want you to -- “

He cuts off with a choked whimper, fingers clutching the slats in his headboard. His shoulder blades are sticking basically straight out -- he’s assured you it’s normal for him and it doesn’t hurt but it still worries you -- and he’s shaking, tense as violent trembles wrack his frame. You stay pressed against him, fingers splayed against his ribs and your cheek against his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he croaks after a while.

You press a kiss to his shoulder; “What for?”

“Came without permission.”

“Oh,” you laugh a little, “It’s fine. I wanted to see if you could, and you did.”

He groans, more embarrassed than anything else, and you roll your hips against his side. That has him groaning again, in a completely different way.

“Roll over,” you whisper to him.

He does, pulling away from you. He hisses when shifting puts weight on his bruised ass, but it’s the good sort of hiss, breath hitched and eyelashes fluttering, and you grin. There’s an obvious wet spot, both on his bedding and his stomach, his dick half hard and waning. You straddle his waist, pulling your own dick out and wrapping his fingers around it for him.

You gasp as he gives you a squeeze, almost painfully close for how little attention you’ve gotten recently. He jerks you off lazily, grip a little sloppy, watching you with half lidded eyes. You hold him tighter around you, one hand over his, the other planted against the wall above his headboard for balance while you slowly thrust into your combined grip, staring him down.

It takes a lot of willpower to keep your movements even and steady, but it’s worth it for how he bites his lip at your seemingly nonchalant control. Your breath barely picks up before you come even though you’re wound tight, tense with effort, and your manage to splatter his face with your spunk.

His eyes roll back and he moans, and you think if he hadn’t creamed himself already, he would have come right then, without you touching his dick once.

**=== >**

Dave perches delicately on everything for the next week, his right asscheek one big yellow-green bruise. His breath hitches every time he sits or shifts his weight, a dopey grin threatening to cross his face, and you daresay you fulfilled your duty as his dom.

There’s no way he got through the week without thinking of what you did to him constantly.

The two of you are chilling on his couch, watching this hilaribad B horror movie about alien clowns. He’s half sprawled in your lap, using your thigh as a pillow, one arm wrapped around your knee while he fusses with his phone. He’s petting your leg hair too, which is kind of weird, but you’ve given up on pointing that out.

Dave is just generally really weird, which was not something you expected when your crush on him first started manifesting.

“So ‘Radia and Tav are thinking of coming over to chill, if we’re down.”

“Oh, uh. Yeah, that’s cool.”

“Sweet.”

Forty minutes later, Dave rolls off your lap to buzz them into ~~your~~ his building. Not long after that, Aradia bustles through the door with a big ass box-case-thing. She holds the door open as wide as it will go so Tavros can... roll through? You raise your eyebrows at his suddenly wheelchair.

It’s not really any of your business, and besides, he brought beer! That’s the important part.

Dave just barely dodges Aradia’s case of doom when she aims it towards his knees, grinning as she sweeps through to the kitchen. Tav passes the beer to Dave before rolling over to you, settling his wheelchair in a perfectly sized spot suspiciously clear of the usual random shit littering the Strider apartment.

“Overdid it a little yesterday,” he tells you, even though you didn’t ask, and Aradia cheekily adds from the kitchen, “Yeah you did.”

Dave snorts and Tavros turns pink. You catch on two seconds later and then your boyfriend leans over the back of the couch to ruffle your hair and peck you on the cheek. Tavros shrugs.

“Don’t worry. You get used to it. Prob-probably.”

You can hear Aradia wander down the hall behind you as Dave plops down on the futon to your other side, his thigh pressed against yours and his arm thrown across the back of the couch.

“So we found a new flavour,” Tav says, rifling through the bag he’s pulled over the back of his wheelchair. He pulls out a little black box and tosses it to Dave, who puts it to his nose. You watch the exchange in the perpetual vague confusion that seems to always result whenever you’re around Dave when he’s around his friends.

Then Dave passes the box to you and says, “Smells like fruity pebbles.”

Tavros gives a sharp, devious grin, “Yeah. Thought of you when we found it.”

“Wow, dick,” Dave snarks back. You take a tentative sniff of the box too -- it does smell fruity, though you don’t really think it smells like fruity pebbles -- and then Aradia leans over the back of the couch, her hair tumbling over her shoulders.

“So Dirk says you owe him twenty still and he’s short fifteen cash so pay up.”

“Why didn’t he just buy from Damara?” Dave grumbles back, leaning into you to pull out his wallet.

“Latest batch resulted from some weird cross-pollination. It’s not _bad_ but she’s not quite sure what happened so it’s not in rotation. Didn’t think of pawning it off on your brother though!” She plucks the twenty out of your boyfriends fingers and wiggles her eyebrows at him before turning to you; “So you gonna join us in hookah, John?”

Your eyebrows furrow; “Isn’t that, like, illegal?”

Dave sputters and chokes on his spit, snickering as he pats your thigh and coos, “You’re so fuckin’ cute.”

_Tavros_ doesn’t laugh at your naivete, making him your favourite. He just tells you, “Shisha’s tobacco, just with a lot of, of flavouring. And stuff. Completely legal, promise.”

Oh. Uh, well. You feel kind of dumb. Dave’s still shaking with silent laughter, because he’s a total buttface, and even Aradia’s hiding a grin behind her hand. You flip the little box of, well, you guess it’s the shisha stuff, over in your hands and shrug.

“If you don’t wanna, it’s no big,” Dave says, his giggles apparently tamped down for the moment, “I will suffer through the shoe in your honor.”

You sputter, “What?” and three different arms point to the scribbled on piece of paper pinned to the wall with a shuriken (that you know is actually a push pin. You’ve seen them on thinkgeek before).

“‘Should ganja be brought to be shared, no Strider shall deny.’ Amended post hangover to include other sorts of smokables. Failure to comply results in the offending party having to eat a shoe,” Dave tells you, “And Terezi assures me it’s an entirely valid contract.”

“Wow, okay. That’s cool.” By which you actually mean your boyfriend and his brother are total weirdos. Dave snorts, probably because he totally picks up on your subtext.

“It’s no big deal if you don’t wanna smoke any, we’re not gonna make you.”

“She’s only a two hoser anyway.”

You must make a face because Dave starts snickering again; this conversation is just as bad as that one about the magic card game! You shrug it away and say, “Sure?” You’re not entirely sure of what you’re agreeing to, exactly, but Tavros excitedly pumps his fist in the air and Aradia swoops off back towards the kitchen and her case of doom. At the very least, you figure it’s not gonna smell bad. Probably. You’re assuming, considering the box of shisha you’re still holding smells alright. Too sweet but that’s _definitely_ better than the smell of cigarettes.

Dave plucks the box from your fingers and hops up to help Aradia, winking cheekily at you. You watch him cross the room and when you turn back, Tavros is grinning.

“You’re really, you know. Cute. Together,” he says.

“Uh, thanks.”

“Oh! Wait, that was probably a little, uh. Weird, sorry. I’m just glad to see him happy.”

“No, it’s okay! I just wasn’t expecting it?” Which is pretty true. Usually guys aren’t the one crooning over your adorable relationships. Especially guys who have also dated the person you’re dating.

Tavros apologizes again, extra sheepish, as Aradia comes back, wielding a big glass.... thing. You’re betting it’s the hookah, especially since that seems to be the thing you’re doing tonight? (You don’t actually get the interest in smoking anything as an actual activity. Like, what do you even _do_ with it?)

A couple of minutes later, Dave wanders over with a flaming brick, settling it on top of the hookah before he flops back onto the couch next to you, slouching until his shoulders are even with yours. He has one of the hoses in hand and it draws a distracting line right to his dick.

“So when you have the hose and you aren’t taking a pull, you cover the hole,” he demonstrates, “like so, ‘kay?”

Aradia climbs over the arm of the futon between you and her boyfriend, passing you a cup of water before she sits on Tavros’ lap. She picks up the other hose and nods to Dave. They both put the hoses to their lips and inhale.

For a really long time.

The base of the hookah bubbles as they do and you watch your boyfriend’s chest expand with how deep of a breath he’s taking. His cheeks also hollow a little, eyes half lidded in a way that’s uncomfortably similar to how he looks when giving you head. The way his lips part just a little when he pulls the hose away, a tendril of smoke slowly escaping, is also kind of unfairly attractive.

Damn.

He exhales for real, blowing out a long stream of smoke, before he turns towards you and offers you the hose. You take it hesitantly, covering the tip with your thumb. The corner of Dave’s lips turn up and he leans his shoulder in against yours. The base of the hookah bubbles again and you look over to Tav and Aradia. Aradia’s wiggling her eyebrows at you so when Tavros finishes, you give it a go.

It’s weird, thick and sweet and sort of cold? Which is not what you were expecting. You figured it’d be hot, considering it’s basically on fire, but it’s really not, and you can see wisps of smoke leaking out from between your lips. It burns the back of your sinuses when you exhale, making you cough a little. By which you mean you basically end up choking on it. Dave laughs at your misfortune, but he also rubs circles against your back.

“Don’t take such a big pull next time, babe,” he snickers, trading you the glass of water in exchange for the hose, plugging it for you, “Doin’ alright?”

“Yeah,” you wheeze.

You’re assured, “You’ll get used to it.”

And surprisingly, you do. It’s definitely not bad. In fact you think you might sort of like it. There’s something super awesome about exhaling smoke and watching Dave blow smoke rings. Also, twenty minutes in, Dave remembered the beer and Tavros has _amazing_ taste.

(He is officially your favourite. The beer is this perfect IPA and it doesn’t actually have any aftertaste, plus it goes _great_ with the smoky sweetness of the hookah.)

Somehow Aradia ends up retelling the time Dave thought a bus was going to eat him while on acid and you can’t help asking _why_ he was on acid in the first place, which spawns a whole new conversation about their days as ravers. Aradia pulls up pictures. Dave attempts to bat the phone away from you so you don’t see, but you’re more than capable of pinning him down, laughing at the way he groans in embarrassment over his fifteen year old self (and maybe the way you’re straddling his ribs).

Which he probably should, what with his dweeby, firetruck red hair and neon plastic sunglasses and, yep, he’s wearing an actual fishnet shirt in more than one of these pictures.

“Fuck you it was the era of boy bands, okay!”

You just laugh harder, continuing to flip through the ancient myspace photo folder Aradia brought up.

“Hey, at least your mall goth phase was not as terrible as mine. I was the worst of baby bats.”

“Yeah, point.”

It sort of dawns on you then that the asian girl with dreads that kept showing up in the pictures was _Aradia_. Wow.

You pull off the hookah on autopilot, comparing teenage raver Aradia to the Aradia sitting in front of you. You don’t see Dave’s hands coming. He pulls you down, lips hard against yours all of a sudden. You gasp and he literally sucks the smoke out of your lungs, blowing it back in your face, and you pop a boner so quickly your head spins.

Or maybe that’s the oxygen deprivation from constantly inhaling smoke.

… Maybe both.

“At least my name actually matched my look,” Dave snarks while you stare at him, stunned and awkwardly aroused.

“Yeah, because some etard eating McDonalds was convinced your hair was coloured with ketchup. _Mine_ has a story.”

Dave tilts his head back to look at Aradia, one eyebrow raised, and you follow his gaze; “Yo, the etard thinking my hair was actually ketchup is so totally a story, _Frogger_.”

Tavros rolls his eyes and you’ve officially given up on actually following half their conversations.


	2. Chapter 2

John is completely shitfaced by the time Tav and Aradia head out, the times two combo of nicotine high and choice beer leaving him flushed and starry eyed. He leans himself against you as you pull him off the couch and you all but waltz with him to get him into bed.

“Hey Dave,” he mumbles into your neck, “What’s it like being fucked in the ass?”

You sputter out surprised laughter; “Where the fuck did that come from?”

He shrugs, “Curious.”

You carefully withdraw your arms from around him. He stands on his own, taking your cue to slowly start undressing. It’s really cute how fucked up he is; it’s not the first time you’ve seen him drunk, but he’s blitzed to hell and back and you’re safe at home where you don’t have to worry about him. 

You’re undressed well before he is, flopping across the bed as he sways and nudges his pants down his legs.

“I like it,” you tell him. He makes a questioning noise, tilting his head towards you. You shrug, “Anal, I like it. Not everyone does though. It’s... nice, I dunno. I’m uke as shit.”

He snickers, tugging his boxers up a little from where they slid halfway down his ass in his efforts to get undressed.

“That’s really descriptive.”

“Fuck you,” you grin at him and he climbs onto the bed next to you.

“Maaaaybe,” he croons cheerfully, rolling into you. His face ends up smooshed against your arm and he’s quiet for a long moment. Then he says, “Wanna fuck me?”

You snort, “Not when you’re shitfaced.”

He props himself up on one elbow to frown at you; “I’m not _that_ bad.”

“You’re pretty bad.”

“It’s just the hookah stuff,” he tries to assure you, “I’m all... stuffed up like I’ve got a headache and I am _definitely_ pretty tipsy, but we’ve fucked drunker.”

“Drunk frotting is nothing like drunk buttsex.”

He laughs, “I’m not that drunk!” and nuzzles his face against your cheek, breath hot against your neck, “Inhibitions have been lowered ‘nough for me to not actually give a fuck and I’m totally not going to have the balls to suggest it again soon so...”

“You sure?”

He hums, nipping at your jaw, “Sure.”

You roll your eyes, nudging him to lay flat next to you.

“ _Sure_ is very reassuring.”

“Dude,” he snickers, “you’re my boyfriend. I fully trust you with my buttginity, senpai.”

You snort, rolling into him to press your lips to his.

“You sure?” you ask again, for good measure.

He rolls his eyes; “ _Yes_ , jeeze.”

It’s sort of weird for you to be in the position of power. You’ve gotten way used to being a full blown sub -- not that you’re actually domming him, really, just topping. He’s pliant under you though, relaxed and intoxicated and grinning into your kisses while you straddle his hips.

“Okay, uh --” shit, you’re waffling like a virgin, “-- strip down and roll over.”

He laughs, a tiny, smarmy breath of amusement against your teeth that makes you shiver because he’s got you wrapped around his finger no matter what. You’ll be topping, sure, but you’re positive he’ll still be in control regardless of how casual this ends up being.

Fuck, you hope he berates you, gives you exacting orders on how he wants you to fuck him the way he does when you ride him.

He ends up on his knees -- arms folded under his head, ass in the air, the whole nine yards -- in the time it takes you to pluck the lube off the side table. You come up behind him and kiss the base of his spine.

“You _sure_?” you ask one last time. He’s obviously tense, flushed clear down his neck.

“Quit asking, gosh!” he whines.

“Relax then.”

“It’s kinda hard to when you’re looking at my butthole,” he grumbles. You can’t help but laugh and he groans in embarassed frustration, “Shut up!”

“Meditate or something then. You’re from Washington. You should know how; you’re all gross hippies up there.”

“Hip _sters_ , thanks.”

You snicker as you lube up your fingers while some of the tension bleeds out from him. He’s breathing intentionally slow, each one carefully measured. There’s just the briefest stutter in the pattern when you touch a finger to his ass, a tiny flinch rippling down his back.

“Talk to me, babe, keep me in the loop,” you murmur to him.

“Talk about what?”

“I dunno, whatever.”

“Wow, that’s helpful -- “ you flush at his sharp, teasing tone, but he continues a little more seriously, “ -- it’s kinda weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird?”

“Weird-weird.” You laugh and again, he grouses at you, “Shut up.”

You try to contain your mirth as you put a little more pressure against his hole. He doesn’t tell you to stop, stays relaxed under you; he just inhales a little bit deeper than he had been and you push into him.

He exhales a little more sharply than you’d like but he breathes out, “Okay,” at the very end.

“Good?”

“Yeah. Well...”

“Tolerable?”

“Weird.”

You grin and snicker and twist your hand to press a little deeper. He gasps at the movement, a good sort of gasp, the kind that speaks of pleasant surprise. You wiggle around, thrusting shallowly. His breathing picks up, no longer measured, but he’s still relaxed under you. The fuzz of body hair tickles your knuckles as you fuck him with a single finger for a moment longer, before pulling out far enough to add a second.

He inhales deeply again as you push back in, holding his breath for a moment before he exhales.

“You sure you ain’t a hippy?” you tease, “You’ve got them breathing exercises down pat.”

He laughs this time when he says, “Shut up.”

“Doin’ alright though?”

“Yeah. It’s weird but,” he shrugs, “Kind of boring actually? It’s a lot more interesting doing this to you instead.”

You open your mouth to reply, but the words stick in your throat. He lets out another one of the little smarmy laughs and you bite your lip.

“So is this all? Figured it’d be better from how you moan and squirm.”

You choke on air, face hot, and thrust into him a little harder. He gasps again, tightening up around you just a bit before relaxing. He’s taking it like a champ _and_ he’s still capable of domming you, jesus shit, he is literally the best.

“So you gonna fuck me or what?”

You groan, bowing over him. He hisses in a breath when you yank your fingers out, fumbling the condom with your lube-slick fingers, and you kiss his ribs. You get the condom on, smearing yourself with more lube, straddling his calves to push your dick against him. To get a good angle, you have to spread your legs even wider. 

You still miss, your dick sliding up his asscrack. He laughs at you and then you pop into him, sliding home smoothy all in one go. He’s tight and hot, and he’s breathing hard into his folded arms as you tremble behind him.

“Wow, okay,” he whispers after a moment, “that’s -- okay. You can move.”

You do, rocking in and out carefully. You’re tall enough that you can press kisses all up his spine, folded over him with one arm braced against the bed, the other gripping his hip. He reaches back when you press your nose against the crown of his spine, grabbing a fistful of your hair. Your hips stutter to a stop and you bite out a sharp, needy curse.

“Wow, you’re so totally my bitch even when I’m not fucking you.”

You tremble and whimper, “Yessir,” against his shoulder blades. He groans in turn, squeezing around you as he claws the back of your head. The slivers of pain from his nails digging into your scalp makes your dick throb and he gasps as you twitch in him.

“Move,” he breathes. You can’t. He’s wrapped his fingers through your hair again, locking your torso against his. With your shoulders taking the brunt of your weight you’re balanced awkwardly over him, you don’t think you can -- 

He bares his teeth and snaps, “Move!”

You do, your hips sputtering into action as you spew apologies against his skin. Somehow, you don’t tip over, dropping to your elbows to slide your knees closer together. Your shoulder blades wing out fully, the strain of it painfully delicious, but he’s gasping from the way you’re fucking him. He’s breathing hard through parted lips, air hissing out over his teeth, and your shit is so completely wrecked.

This is not what you were expecting to do tonight. Nope, not at all. You figured you’d get some intoxicated snuggles and then your stoned ass would pass out.

Instead, your dom has a firm grip on the back of your head and he’s rumbling out orders, perfectly coherent. That’s what gets to you the most, you think; his voice never falters, not even when he demands you fuck him harder. He’s so fucking _perfect_ , tight and hot and controlling. You wrap your arms around his ribs, letting him take the brunt of your weight to clutch at him as your hips jackknife back and forth. 

He lets out a wheezy little laugh, condescending like, _that’s it?_ and it is. You’re up on your toes now; your calves burn, your thighs are tense and quivering, and you hope to fuck you’re doing alright. You’re aiming every stroke down to where his prostate should be. You want him to enjoy himself. You want to _please_ him, to fuck him even half as good as he fucks you, and does he ever fuck you good.

It occurs to you that you’ve been whimpering your internal monologue against his spine, his skin slick from your wet lips and hot breath, when he murmurs, “You’re such a good boy, Dave.”

The praise makes you glow and you nuzzle the back of his neck, gasping your thanks.

“You gonna come for me?” he asks, voice low. You nod and tremble. You’re not there yet, but you could be, and the way he’s yanking on your hair again makes your dick jump. You moan, lips dragging against his skin as you try to leverage yourself up a little, just enough to get your arms under you again.

He doesn’t let you, keeps your face pressed to his back and you have no idea _how_ he’s managing -- your arm would rip straight out of its socket if you even tried to reach back as far as he has, let alone have any force behind the action. But he wrestled. He could probably flip you clear off of him if there was something other than your head for him to grip and just the _thought_ of that is.

Fuck.

_Fuck_.

You come with a choked off whimper and he rolls you off of him almost immediately after. You flop to the side, boneless, with the condom slid half off and sticking to your hipbone and he’s, he’s barely even _hard_. Your heart catches in your throat as you watch him straddle your ribs, squeezing his barely there chub.

“Do you have any idea how hot you looked smoking?” he asks, voice low, “Really fucking hot. I was half hard all night because of you and you didn’t even notice, did you?”

Your eyes widen -- you hadn’t, holy fuck -- and you whisper, “No Sir.”

“All the smoke kept drawing my eyes back to your mouth, and you know what I like about your mouth?”

“Sucks your cock good, Sir?”

He smiles and pats your cheek with the hand not on his crotch; “That’s right.”

Your toes curl and your heart swells; it’s always nice to give the right answer. It’s nice to do well, to do what he wants you to. He may not have gotten off like you do with anal but you’re sure he’s still enjoying himself. You’re sure he’s pleased with you.

He raises an eyebrow when you when you raise one hand, intending to help him jerk off. You let it drop to his thigh instead, thumb stroking his skin, apparently an acceptable compromise. He doesn’t brush you off at least, or give you any sort of indication that you’re not allowed to touch him so long as you’re not trying to help.

After a moment, you lick your lips and ask, “Can I?”

“Can you what, Dave.”

His voice is perfectly even, measured and calm in ways you could never in a million years achieve, not like this, and it sends shivers down your spine. You whisper, “Blow you?”

“Full sentences, Dave.”

You just barely manage to bite back a frustrated noise, instead pleading, “Can I blow you, Sir? Please?”

He smiles a little at that and says, “Of course.”

He clambers off of you, still a little wobbly from intoxication, and he motions for you to move to the floor. You slither out from under him, sliding to your knees by the edge of the bed, peeling off the condom sticking to you as you go. Sitting on your feet, you’re tall enough to rest your cheek against his thigh when he slings his legs over the side.

Even with his ass right on the edge of your bed, he’s not quite tall enough to have his feet actually flat on the floor. He just barely reaches, balanced on the balls of his feet. You bite your lip to smother a grin at how cute that is, your place in subspace filled with giddy affection for your dom.

“No hands,” he instructs softly, leaning back a little. You scoot forward just the slightest bit, fingers clasping your knees, anchoring them there. He doesn’t stop you when you lean in, just sighs when your breath ghosts over his dick, waiting for you.

You’re delicate, taking your time, sweetly lavishing his dick with attention, all lips and tongue. You trace the flare of his head with just the tip of your tongue, suck wet kisses against his shaft, lap away the precome gathering at the tip.

“Tease,” he breathes. His voice is tinged with amusement, though, so you just grin against his skin in return. He laughs at that, softly, as his fingers slide through your hair. His hand is heavy on your head, urging you forward, and you obediently open your mouth for him. You’re a little clumsy in fitting your mouth around him, having no access to your hands to hold him at the best angle, but you make up for it by swallowing him down almost all the way right off the bat. He’s already spit slick from you slobbering all over his junk and he slides past your lips smooth as can be.

You can’t quite get him all the way down your throat, not at this angle. He doesn’t make you, his hands a solid presence but not a forceful one. You swallow around him, once, twice, reveling in his soft groan before you pull back. You drag the flat of your tongue along the underside, pressing the ball of your tongue bling against it just the way he likes, flicking your tongue to catch it against the flare of his head. 

You hollow your cheeks around his head as you hunker down, shifting so your ass is flat on the floor. He makes a wordless noise of warning when you bring one of your hands up, probably thinking that you’re going to go against his instructions, but you just use it to brace yourself against the frame of your bed. You twist to wedge your shoulders pasts his knees and lean in, arching your back until you have to tilt your chin up to keep him in your mouth.

This time you’re able to suck him down far enough that his pubes tickle your nose ; he holds you there. You whimper as your toes curl and your dick throbs in appreciation, not exactly hard again but definitely interested. His breathing picks up as you stay there, swallowing carefully around him as your chest tightens and your head goes fuzzy.

You reach up and grab his knee -- not exactly his hips, but the message still gets through and he lets you go. He strokes his fingertips across the back of your neck as you catch your breath, panting against his thigh. He gives you just long enough to get your swimming head under control before he guides his dick back to your lips, fingers under your jaw.

His dick slides down your throat even farther this time, your lips kissing his pubic bone. You swallow around him, sucking hard.

“Shoulda actually stood for this,” he breathes, the comment more to himself than to you. His hips twitch up too, thrusting, and it’s hard to grin with a face full of dick, but you manage.

Your head is guided back once again. A string of spit follows in your wake when your lips pop off his dick and you pointedly scoot back. You don’t go far enough to be out of reach, just enough to give him room to stand. He snorts and shoots you a look that’s almost disapproving but he slides forward onto his feet anyway.

You open your mouth again and this time he doesn’t just fill you up. He fucks your face hard and fast, fingers tight in your hair, until your chin’s slick with drool and you’re actually hard again. 

And then he throbs and explodes across your tongue. You swallow as he pulls away, licking your lips on reflex.

“Urgh,” John grumbles, flopping back across your bed, “Okay that was maybe a bit too vigorous for how -- “ he gestures vaguely and you laugh, rising up onto your knees.

“Intoxicated you are?” you supply, crossing your arms over his knees, settling your chin down on top.

He huffs, “I’m _fine_ , gosh. It’s just. Standing is hard. I was fine... before.”

You snort as you stand, scooping up his underwear as you go to fling them at his face. He just barely manages to catch them, snickering while he flips you the bird, and you -- you step on the condom. John just about dies laughing at your misfortune.

**=== >**

You wake to the sound of Dirk banging around in the kitchen, one of John’s arms slung around your waist. You roll under its weight, squeezing your shoulder blades together to work out the ache of sleeping with one arm shoved up between your mattress and headboard while you debate the merits of actually getting up.

John decides for you, enveloping you mid roll with a half asleep grumble, squishing your face into his man cleavage.

“My ass feels weird,” he grouses, and you snort into your entirely homosexual marshmallow hell.

“Good morning to you too, babe.”

He snickers against the side of your head, hot breath tickling your ear, and you flail a limp wristed hand at him in the space between your bodies. He doesn’t let you go; instead, he snuggles you closer.

“I have concluded in an entirely sober fashion,” he tells you, “that, that bottoming? Wasn’t too bad.”

You squirm out of his grasp, smirking, “Glad to be of service.”

He grins and wiggles his eyebrows at you in return and you shove a pillow in his face.

**=== >**

EB : soooooo   
EB : i’ve learned the hard way that googling just “crop” leads to some distinctly unsexy wikipedia pages.  
TG : orly  
EB : yeah.  
EB : <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crop_(anatomy)>  
EB : things i had no interest in knowing.  
TG : wow youre boring  
TG : also ive read that before p interesting stuff yo  
EB : yeah, well, you’re weird.  
TG : real mature babe  
EB : and i’d be sticking my tongue out at you and everything if i was there.  
TG : dork  
EB : yeah but you love me.  
TG : sure do <3  
EB : <3  
EB : but it sounds like crops and whips and stuff are kind of.. really hardcore.  
EB : like they can leave some pretty intense bruising which, considering how easy you bruise, sort of really worries me.  
TG : understandable  
EB : idk how well i could control it either. never used one before :T  
TG : also understandable  
TG : im more than okay with starting slow  
TG : like i know what i want but ive never gone quite so far so i dont actually know if its within my limits  
TG : : also tz can totally teach you how to use any sort of whipping implements shes basically a pro when it comes to cp  
TG : she is gonna make a terrifying lawyer ive seen her in action  
EB : omfg  
TG : ahahah yeah basically  
TG : but crops arent that bad

TG : so tips on crops  
GC : W3LL 1SNT TH1S QU3ST1ON OUT OF TH3 BLU3  
TG : yeah well johns worried about hurting me with one and you know a lot more about the specifics than i do  
TG : : bequeath upon me your infinite knowledge in the ways of consensually beating the shit outta someone  
GC : >:]  
TG : so i can pass it on to my bf  
GC : > :]   
GC : >:]  
GC : > :]  
TG : yes yes obligatory eyebrow waggle emotes  
GC : DONT YOU TH1NK 1TD B3 34S13R 1F 1 JUST R3L4Y3D S41D 1NFORM4T1ON TO YOUR BOYFR13ND TO B3G1N W1TH?  
TG : yeah probs hold on  
[TG] added ectobiologist [EB] \--  
GC : SO CROPS 3H? >:]  
EB : sigh  
TG : no dude trust me its cool like i said shes basically a pro  
GC : 4W YOU FL4TT3R M3 D4V3  
GC : WH4T 4R3 YOUR 1NT3NT1ONS W1TH TH3 CROP?  
EB : uh, well, dave wants to be beat with one until his ass is super bruised?  
GC : W3LL TH4T GO4L WONT B3 H4RD TO 4CH13V3  
TG : yeah fuck you i cant help being a delicate flower thanks  
GC : H3H3H3H3H >:]  
EB : buuut i’ve never used one so....  
GC : 1 S33  
GC : W3LL TO G3T TH3 BRU1S1NG D4V3 D3S1R3S YOULL W4NT TO W13LD TH3 CROP MOR3 L1K3 4 C4N3  
GC : 1N WH1CH C4S3 YOULL PROB4BLY W4NT 4 M1D-L3NGTH ON3  
GC : TH3 LONG3R TH3 CROP TH3 MOR3 WH1P L1K3 1T 1S  
GC : SHORT3R ON3S 4R3 34S13R TO CONTROL THOUGH SO 1 GU3SS 1TS MOR3 UP TO WH4T YOUR3 COMFORT4BL3 W1TH P3RSON4LLY >:]  
GC : DONT WORRY 4BOUT HURT1NG D4V3 TOO MUCH THOUGH  
GC : YOU KNOW H3 L1K3S P41N 4ND HES PR3TTY GOOD 4BOUT S4F3WORD1NG 1F TH1NGS G3T TOO HOT FOR H1M TO H4NDL3  
GC : CROPS 4R3 4LSO R3L4T1V3LY S4F3 4ND 34SY TO US3  
GC : YOULL D3F1N1T3LY H4V3 TO PR4CT1C3 4 B1T B3FOR3 YOU US3 1T ON H1M TO G3T 4 GOOD F33L FOR 1T BUT TH3 BUTT 4ND B4CK OF TH3 TH1GHS 4R3 PR3TTY TOUGH FOR HOW S3NS1T1V3 TH3Y 4R3 SO 1TS NOT L1K3LY TH4T TH3R3LL B3 L4ST1NG D4M4G3  
GC : 3V3N W1TH HOW MUCH OF 4 D3L1C4T3 FLOW3R D4V3 1S >:]  
GC : ST4RT1NG OFF BY JUST US1NG TH3 T1P 1S 4LSO 4 GOOD W4Y TO 34S3 1NTO US1NG 1MPL3M3NTS  
GC : TH3 POPP3R 1S MOR3 FOR ST4RTL1NG OV3R 4CTU4LLY 1NFL1CT1NG P41N 4ND 1TS TH3 ONLY P4RT YOUR3 4CTU4LLY SUPPOS3D TO US3 WH3N US1NG 4 R1D1NG CROP FOR 4CTU4LLY R1D1NG 4 HORS3  
GC : 1T DO3S ST1NG PR3TTY B4D WH3N DON3 R1GHT THOUGH  
GC : 4LSO PL4C1NG 4 W4RM W4SHCLOTH 4CROSS H1S BUTT WH3N YOUR3 DON3 W1LL H3LP FORM TH3 BRU1S3S H3 W4NTS SO YOU DONT H4VE TO H1T H1M QU1T3 4S H4RD  
GC : QU3ST1ONS?  
EB : uh not really?  
TG : yeah pretty comprehensive there tz  
GC : 1 DO TRY >:]  
GC : OH W41T 4CTU4L 4PPL1C4T1ON  
GC : YOULL B3 B3TT3R OFF GOOGL1NG V1D3OS  
GC : UNL3SS YOUD R4TH3R H4V3 4 H4NDS ON D3MONSTR4T1ON  
GC : >:]  
GC : > :]  
GC : >:]  
EB : aodifhaosdf  
GC : 1M K1DD1NG J33Z3  
GC : BUT 1F YOU H4V3 4NY QU3ST1ONS OR 4NYTH1NG F33L FR33 TO 4SK JOHN  
GC : 1 DONT B1T3  
TG : you are a dirty liar tz  
GC : F1N3 1 DONT B1T3 TH3 UNW1LL1NG >:]  
EB : adhsfuoahdsf

GC : YOU KNOW SOM3T1M3S 1TS R34LLY H4RD TO R3M3MB3R TH4T JOHN 1S 4CTU4LLY K1NKY  
TG : ikr  
TG : you look at him and hes such a total boy next door but then you fuck him and its like out of fuckin no where hes a totally commanding badass  
TG : like a cake frosted with boring ass frosting but inside its fucking german chocolate red velvet cake with knives  
GC : W3LL SOM3ON3S PL34S3D  
TG : dude you have no idea pain isnt even his deal but hes still willing to go through with this  
TG : that is rad as hell  
GC : SUP3R R4D >:]  
TG : shit man i am swooning all over the place  
TG : its been ages since ive even negotiated for something this intense omfg  
GC : Y34H D1RK S4YS YOUV3 B33N ON CLOUD N1N3 4LL W33K  
GC : C4R3 TO L3T 4 G1RL 1N ON TH3 D33TZ  
GC : >:]  
GC : > :]  
GC : >:]  
TG : that gossipy bitch  
GC : H3H3H3H3H  
TG : tldr sitting down has been deliciously awful for the past week for a very good reason  
GC : ORLY  
TG : dont quite got stripes but hes shown himself more than willing to lay down a little punishment if you know what i mean  
GC : OH 1 DO >:]  
TG : pervert  
GC : Y34H BUT YOU LOV3 M3

TG : you get any comfort from tzs wicked knowledge babe  
EB : yeah i suppose  
EB : it was kinda awkward talking to her about it but a lot easier than googling it myself  
TG : shit sorry i shoulda asked if you were okay with bringing her in  
EB : no dude it’s okay! i’m not really bothered by it.  
EB : i just sorta forget that there are other people who... you know...  
TG : are horrifically kinky?  
EB : lol yeah i guess  
TG : you poor repressed middle class white boy  
EB : pfft should i take offense to that?  
TG : naw babe im just giving you shit  
EB : i’ll just have to get used to the idea that i’ve managed to land myself in a group of perverts :B  
TG : yo dude ive met jade were not the first pervs youve met  
EB : ahah yeaaaah well the high school we went to was actually pretty much all rich white people.  
EB : who are also really snooty. like country club members level of snooty.  
TG : ouch lame  
EB : meh not so bad. my dad’s always been pretty open about things so it definitely could have been worse.  
TG : thats cool  
TG : he actually know youre a kinky motherfucker then?  
EB : ahahaha  
EB : ahaha  
EB : no that would have been really weird.  
EB : he’d be cool with it, but he really likes being well informed and i definitely don’t want to talk to my dad about how i like.. you know, choking the person i’m with while i fuck them.  
TG : yeah figured as much  
TG : i can see how thatd be uncomfortable  
EB : yeah.  
EB : nooot really looking forward to telling him i’m actually dating someone either :T  
EB : i’m about 90% sure he’d fly down just to meet you and then your apartment would be filled with cake.  
TG : dude i would so not complain the only person who would actually suffer through the cake armageddon would be you babe  
EB : bluh  
EB : so, subject change.  
EB : i’m assuming you’d like the crop spanking to not actually be punishment, right?  
TG : what a shift in topics babe  
TG : and yeah  
EB : okay cool. any other requests while we’re at it?  
TG : mark me up more?  
EB : sure :)  
TG : though maybe not quite to the extent where i start to look like im rotting  
TG : got more than a few dirty looks  
EB : ahah yeaaah. i’ll keep to more easily covered areas.  
EB : did you maybe wanna start looking into a more work safe mark of my claim?  
TG : are you asking if i want you to collar me  
EB : pretty much yeah  
TG : why mister egbert i never <3  
EB : <3  
EB : i mean it doesn’t have to be an actual collar but you do seem to really like when it’s obvious that you’re with someone and there are bracelets like the turian collars which would probably be a lot less likely to draw a bunch of attention.  
TG : fuck youre cute <3  
TG : and im sure bro will be thrilled to hear youre gonna make an honest woman outta me  
EB : pfft dork.  
EB : is that a yes?  
TG : course it is  
TG : im totally fine with a regular leather collar though  
TG : as long as its not thick as fuck itll be fine for everyday wear  
EB : k cool <3

TG : okay dude no john is legit the best  
TG : i think i’m in love  
TG : like for realz swooning  
TT : Is that so?  
TT : Dirk had mentioned something about your recent behaviour being rather... sugoi.  
TG : yo dude i don’t even care he basically just kink proposed to me  
TT : Oh?  
TG : yeah  
TG : fucking turian collar and everything  
TT : Impressive.  
TT : Shall I tell Nana that we’ll need an extra place setting for Thanksgiving then?  
TG : you know what fuck it yeah  
TG : up to him though no promises  
TT : Well. You’re quite pleased.  
TG : fucking elated princess  
TT : Quite. I’m almost embarrassed for you. What happened to your impervious poker face?  
TG : got no reason to be bluffin with my muffin  
TT : ….....  
TT : Thank you for sharing, I suppose.  
TG : no probs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TERM EXPLANATIONS 'cause i'm sure i'll get ??? at
> 
> CP is basically shorthand for [physical punishment](http://www.londonfetishscene.com/wipi/index.php/Physical_punishment), aka corporal punishment. [Turian collars](http://www.londonfetishscene.com/wipi/index.php/Turian_collar) are.. basically a super fancy type of collar.


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